Foul Play

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Mrs. Undercliff turned the conversation directly. "My son has given manyhours to Mr. Hand's two letters, and he told me to tell you he isbeginning to doubt whether Mr. Hand is a real person, with a realhandwriting, at all.

"Oh, Mrs. Undercliff! Why, he wrote me two letters! However, I will askMr. Penfold whether Mr. Hand exists or not. When shall I have thepleasure of seeing you again?"

"Whenever you like, my dear young lady; but not upon this business ofPenfold and Wardlaw. I have done with it forever; and my advice to you,miss, is not to stir the mud any more." And with these mysterious wordsthe old lady retired, leaving Helen deeply discouraged at her desertion.

However, she noted down the conversation in her diary, and made thiscomment: People find no pleasure in proving an accused person innocent;the charm is to detect guilt. This day a good, kind friend abandons mebecause I will not turn aside from my charitable mission to suspectanother person as wrongfully as he I love has been suspected.

_Mem.:_ To see, or make inquiries about Mr. Hand.

General Rolleston had taken a furnished house in Hanover Square. He nowmoved into it, and Helen was compelled to busy herself in householdarrangements.

She made the house charming; but unfortunately stood in a draught whileheated, and caught a chill, which a year ago would very likely have goneto her lungs and killed her, but now settled on her limbs in violentneuralgic pains, and confined her to her bed for a fortnight.

She suffered severely, but had the consolation of finding she wastenderly beloved. Arthur sent flowers every day and affectionate notestwice a day. And her father was constantly by her bedside.

At last she came down to the drawing-room, but lay on the sofa wellwrapped up, and received only her most intimate friends.

The neuralgia had now settled on her right arm and hand, so that shecould not write a letter; and she said to herself with a sigh, "Oh, howunfit a girl is to do anything great! We always fall ill just when healthand strength are most needed."

Nevertheless, during this period of illness and inaction, circumstancesoccurred that gave her joy.

Old Wardlaw had long been exerting himself in influential channels toobtain what he called justice for his friend Rolleston, and had receivedsome very encouraging promises; for the general's services wereindisputable; and, while he was stirring the matter, Helen wasunconsciously co-operating by her beauty, and the noise her adventuremade in society. At last a gentleman whose wife was about the Queen,promised old Wardlaw one day that, if a fair opportunity should occur,that lady should tell Helen's adventure, and how the gallant old general,when everybody else despaired, had gone out to the Pacific, and found hisdaughter and brought her home. This lady was a courtier of ten years'standing, and waited her opportunity; but when it did come, she took it,and she soon found that no great tact or skill was necessary on such anoccasion as this. She was listened to with ready sympathy, and the verynext day some inquiries were made, the result of which was that the HorseGuards offered Lieutenant-General Rolleston the command of a crackregiment and a full generalship. At the same time, it was intimated tohim from another official quarter that a baronetcy was at his service ifhe felt disposed to accept it. The tears came into the stout oldwarrior's eyes at this sudden sunshine of royal favor, and Helen kissedold Wardlaw of her own accord; and the star of the Wardlaws rose into theascendant, and for a time Robert Penfold seemed to be quite forgotten.

The very day General Rolleston became Sir Edward, a man and a womancalled at the Charing Cross Hotel, and asked for Miss Helen Rolleston.

The answer was, she had left the hotel about ten days.

"Where is she gone, if you please?"

"We don't know."

"Why, hasn't she left her new address?"

"No. The footman came for letters several times."

No information was to be got here, and Mr. Penfold and Nancy Rouse wenthome greatly disappointed, and puzzled what to do.

At first sight it might appear easy for Mr. Penfold to learn the newaddress of Miss Rolleston. He had only to ask Arthur Wardlaw. But, totell the truth, during the last fortnight Nancy Rouse had impressed herviews steadily and persistently on his mind, and he had also made adiscovery that co-operated with her influence and arguments to underminehis confidence in his employer. What that discovery was we must leave himto relate.

Looking, then, at matters with a less unsuspicious eye than heretofore,he could not help observing that Arthur Wardlaw never put into the officeletter-box a single letter for his sweetheart. "He must write to her,"thought Michael; "but I am not to know her address. Suppose, after all,he did intercept that letter."

And now, like other simple, credulous men whose confidence has beenshaken, he was literally brimful of suspicions, some of them reasonable,some of them rather absurd.

He had too little art to conceal his change of mind; and so, very soonafter his vain attempt to see Helen Rolleston at the inn, he was bundledoff to Scotland on business of the office.

Nancy missed him sorely. She felt quite alone in the world. She managedto get through the day--work helped her; but at night she satdisconsolate and bewildered, and she was now beginning to doubt her owntheory. For certainly, if all that money had been Joe Wylie's, he wouldhardly have left the country without it.

Now, the second evening after Michael's departure, she was seated in hisroom, brooding, when suddenly she heard a peculiar knocking next door.

She listened a little while, and then stole softly downstairs to her ownlittle room.

Her suspicions were correct. It was the same sort of knocking that hadpreceded the phenomenon of the hand and bank-notes. She peeped into thekitchen and whispered, "Jenny--Polly--come here."

A stout washerwoman and the mite of a servant came, wondering.

"Now you stand there," said Nancy, "and do as I bid you. Hold yourtongues, now. I know all about it."

The myrmidons stood silent, but with panting bosoms; for the mysteriousknocking now concluded, and a brick in the chimney began to move.

It came out, and immediately a hand with a ring on it came through theaperture, and felt about.

The mite stood firm, but the big washerwoman gave signs of agitation thatpromised to end in a scream.

Nancy put her hand roughly before the woman's mouth. "Hold your tongue,ye great soft--" And, without finishing her sentence, she darted to thechimney and seized the hand with both her own and pulled it with suchviolence that the wrist followed it through the masonry, and a roar washeard.

"Hold on to my waist, Polly," she cried. "Jenny, take the poker, and thatstring, and tie his hand to it while we hold on. Quick! quick! Are yeasleep?"

Thus adjured, the mite got the poker against the wall and tried to tiethe wrist to it.

This, however, was not easy, the hand struggled so desperately.

However, pulling is a matter of weight rather than muscle. And the weightof the two women pulling downward overpowered the violent struggles ofthe man; and the mite contrived to tie the poker to the wrist, and repeatthe ligatures a dozen times in a figure of eight.

Then the owner of the hand, who had hitherto shown violent strength,taken at a disadvantage, now showed intelligence. Convinced that skill aswell as force were against him, he ceased to struggle and became quitequiet.

The women contemplated their feat with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

When they had feasted a reasonable time on the imprisoned hand, and twoof them, true to their sex, had scrutinized a green stone upon one of thefingers, to see whether it was real or false, Nancy took them by theshoulders, and bundled them good-humoredly out of the room.

She then lowered the gas and came out, and locked the room up, and putthe key in her pocket.

"I'll have my supper with you," said she. "Come, Jenny, I'm cook; and youmake the kitchen as a body could eat off it, for I expect vicitors."

"La, ma'am," said the mite; "he can't get out of the chimbly to visit husthrough the street door."

"No, girl," said Nancy. "But he can send a hambassador; so Show her heyesand plague her art, as the play says, for of all the dirty kitchens giveme hers. I never was there but once, and my slipper come off for themuck, a sticking to a body like bird-lime."

There was a knock at Nancy's street door; the little servant, full ofcuriosity, was for running to it on the instant. But Nancy checked her.

"Take your time," said she. "It is only a lodging-house keeper."

CHAPTER LXIV.

SIR EDWARD ROLLESTON could not but feel his obligations to the Wardlaws,and, when his daughter got better, he spoke warmly on the subject, andasked her to consider seriously whether she had not tried Arthur'saffection sufficiently.

"He does not complain to you, I know," said he; "but he feels it veryhard that you should punish him for an act of injustice that has alreadyso deeply afflicted him. He says he believes some fool or villain heardhim say that two thousand pounds was to be borrowed between them, andwent and imposed on Robert Penfold's credulity; meaning, perhaps, to callagain after the note had been cashed, and get Arthur's share of themoney."

"But why did he not come forward?"

"He declares he did not know when the trial was till a month after. Andhis father bears him out; says he was actually delirious, and his life indanger. I myself can testify that he was cut down just in this way whenhe heard the _Proserpine_ was lost, and you on board her. Why not givehim credit for the same genuine distress at young Penfold's misfortune?Come, Helen, is it fair to afflict and punish this gentleman for themisfortune of another, whom he never speaks of but with affection andpity? He says that if you would marry him at once, he thinks he shouldfeel strong enough to throw himself into the case with you, and wouldspare neither money nor labor to clear Robert Penfold; but, as it is, hesays he feels so wretched, and so tortured with jealousy, that he can'tco-operate warmly with you, though his conscience reproaches him everyday. Poor young man! His is really a very hard case. For you promised himyour hand before you ever saw Robert Penfold."

"I did," said Helen; "but I did not say when. Let me have one year to mygood work, before I devote my whole life to Arthur."

"Well, it will be a year wasted. Why postpone your marriage for that?"

"I promised."

"Yes, but he chose to fancy young Wardlaw is his enemy. You might relaxthat, now he tells you he will co-operate with you as your husband. Now,Helen, tell the truth--is it a woman's work? Have you found it so? Willnot Arthur do it better than you?"

Helen, weakened already by days of suffering, began to cry, and say,"What shall I do? what shall I do?"

"If you have any doubt, my dear," said Sir Edward, "then think of what Iowe to these Wardlaws."

And with that he kissed her, and left her in tears; and, soon after, sentArthur himself up to plead his own cause.

It was a fine summer afternoon; the long French casements, looking on thegarden of the Square, were open, and the balmy air came in and wooed thebeautiful girl's cheek, and just stirred her hair at times.

Arthur Wardlaw came softly in, and gazed at her as she lay; herloveliness filled his heart and soul; he came and knelt by her sofa, andtook her hand, and kissed it, and his own eyes glistened with tenderness.

He had one thing in his favor. He loved her.

Her knowledge of this had more than once befriended him, and made herrefuse to suspect him of any great ill; it befriended him now. She turneda look of angelic pity on him.

"Poor Arthur," she said. "You and I are both unhappy."

"But we shall be happy, ere long, I hope," said Arthur.

Helen shook her head.

Then he patted her, and coaxed her, and said he would be her servant, aswell as a husband, and no wish of her heart should go ungratified.

"None?" said she, fixing her eyes on him.

"Not one," said he; "upon my honor." Then he was so soft and persuasive,and alluded so delicately to her plighted faith, that she felt like apoor bird caught in a silken net.

"Sir Edward is very good," said he; "he feels for me."

At that moment, a note was sent up.

"Mr. Wardlaw is here, and has asked me when the marriage is to be. Ican't tell him; I look like a fool."

Helen sighed deeply and had begun to gather those tears that weaken awoman. She glanced despairingly to and fro, and saw no escape. Then,Heaven knows why or wherefore--probably with no clear design at all but awoman's weak desire to cause a momentary diversion, to put off theinevitable for five minutes--she said to Arthur: "Please give me thatprayer-book. Thank you. It is right you should know this." And she putCooper's deposition, and Welch's, into his hands.

He devoured them, and started up in great indignation. "It is anabominable slander," said he. "We have lost ten thousand pounds by thewreck of that ship, and Wylie's life was saved by a miracle as well asyour own. It is a foul slander. I hurl it from me."

"Of course it must be found," said Arthur. "A pretty scandal to go intothe hands of Heaven knows who. I shall offer twenty guineas reward for itat once. I'll go down to the _Times_ this moment. Was ever anything sounlucky?"

"Yes, go at once," said Helen; "and I'll send the servants into theSquare. I don't want to say anything unkind, Arthur, but you ought not tohave thrown my prayer-book into the public street."

"I know I ought not. I am ashamed of it myself."

"Well, let me _see_ the advertisement."

"You shall. I have no doubt we shall recover it."

Next morning the _Times_ contained an advertisement offering twentyguineas for a prayer-book lost in Hanover Square, and valuable, not initself, but as a relic of a deceased parent.

In the afternoon Arthur called to know if anybody had brought theprayer-book back.

Helen shook her head sadly, and said, "No."

He seemed very sorry and so penitent, that Helen said:

"Do not despair. And if it is gone, why, I must remember you haveforgiven me something, and I must forgive you."

The footman came in.

"If you please, miss, here is a woman wishes to speak to you; says shehas brought a prayer-book."

"Oh, show her up at once," cried Helen.

Arthur turned away his head to hide a cynical smile. He had good reasonsfor thinking it was not the one he had flung out of the window yesterday.

A tall woman came in, wearing a thick veil, that concealed her features.

She entered on her business at once.

"You lost a prayer-book in this Square yesterday, madam."

"Yes."

"You offer twenty guineas reward for it."

"Yes."

"Please to look at this one."

Helen examined it, and said with joy it was hers.

Arthur was thunderstruck. He could not believe his senses.

"Let me look at it," said he.

His eyes went at once to the writing.

He turned as pale as death and stood petrified.

The woman took the prayer-book out of his unresisting hand, and said:

"You'll excuse me, sir; but it is a large reward, and gentlefolkssometimes go from their word when the article is found."

Helen, who was delighted at getting back her book, and rather tickled atArthur having to pay twenty guineas for losing it, burst out laughing,and said:

"Give her the reward, Arthur; I am not going to pay for your misdeeds."

"With all my heart," said Arthur, struggling for composure.

He sat down to draw a check.

"What name shall I put?"

"Hum! Edith Hesket."

"Two t's?"

"No, only one."

"There."

"Thank you, sir."

She put the check into her purse, and brought the prayer-book to Helen.

"Lock it up at once," said she, in a voice so low that Arthur heard hermurmur, but not the words. And she retired, leaving Helen staring withamazement, and Arthur in a cold perspiration.

CHAPTER LXV.

WHEN the _Springbok_ weighed anchor and left the island, a solitary formwas seen on Telegraph Hill.

When she passed eastward, out of sight of that point, a solitary figurewas seen on the cliffs.

When her course brought the island dead astern of her, a solitary figurestood on the east bluff of the island, and was the last object seen fromthe boat as she left those waters forever.

What words can tell the sickening sorrow and utter desolation thatpossessed that yearning bosom!

When the boat that had carried Helen away was out of sight, he came backwith uneven steps to the cave, and looked at all the familiar objectswith stony eyes, and scarce recognized them, for the sunshine of herpresence was there no more. He wandered to and fro in a heavy stupor,broken every now and then by sharp pangs of agony that almost made himscream. And so the poor bereaved creature wandered about all day. Hecould not eat, he could not sleep, his misery was more than he couldbear. One day of desolation succeeded another. And what men say sohastily was true for once. "His life was a burden." He dragged it aboutwith him he scarce knew how.

He began to hate all the things he had loved while she was there. Thebeautiful cave, all glorious with pearl, that he had made for her, hecould not enter it, the sight killed him, and she not there.

He left Paradise Bay altogether at last and anchored his boat in a nookof Seal Bay. And there he slept in general. But sometimes he would liedown, wherever he happened to be, and sleep as long as he could.

To him to wake was a calamity. And when he did wake, it was always with adire sense of reviving misery, and a deep sigh at the dark day he knewawaited him.

His flesh wasted on his bones, and his clothes hung loosely about him.The sorrow of the mind reduced him almost to that miserable condition inwhich he had landed on the island.

The dog and the seal were faithful to him; used to lie beside him, andoften whimpered; their minds, accustomed to communicate without the aidof speech, found out, Heaven knows how! that he was in grief or insickness.

These two creatures, perhaps, saved his life or his reason. They camebetween his bereaved heart and utter solitude.

Thus passed a month of wretchedness unspeakable.

Then his grief took a less sullen form.

He came back to Paradise Bay, and at sight of it burst into a passion ofweeping.

These were his first tears, and inaugurated a grief more tender thanever, but less akin to madness and despair.

Now he used to go about and cry her name aloud, passionately, by nightand day.

"Oh, Helen! Helen!"

And next his mind changed in one respect, and he clung to everyreminiscence of her. Every morning he went round her haunts, and kissedevery place where he had seen her put her hand.

Only the cave he could not yet face.

He tried, too. He went to the mouth of it again and again, and looked in;but go into it and face it, empty of her--he could not.

He prayed often.

One night he saw her in a dream.

She bent a look of angelic pity on him, and said but these words, "Livein my cave," then vanished.

Alone on an island in the vast Pacific, who can escape superstition? Itfills the air. He took this communication as a command, and the nextnight he slept in the cave.

But he entered it in the dark, and left it before dawn.

By degrees, however, he plucked up courage and faced it in daylight. Butit was a sad trial. He came out crying bitterly after a few minutes.

Still he persevered, because her image had bade him; and at last, oneevening, he even lighted the lamp, and sat there looking at the gloriouswalls and roof his hapless love had made.

Getting stronger by degrees, he searched about, and found little relicsof her--a glove, a needle, a great hat she had made out of some largeleaves. All these he wept over and cherished.

But one day he found at the very back of the cave a relic that made himstart as if a viper had stung his loving heart. It was a letter.

He knew it in a moment. It had already caused him many a pang; but now italmost drove him mad. Arthur Wardlaw's letter.

He recoiled from it, and let it lie. He went out of the cave, and cursedhis hard fate. But he came back. It was one of those horrible things aman abhors, yet cannot keep away from. He took it up and dashed it downwith rage many times; but it all ended in his lighting the lamp at night,and torturing himself with every word of that loving letter.

And she was going home to the writer of that letter, and he was leftprisoner on the island. He cursed his generous folly, and writhed inagony at the thought. He raged with jealousy, so that his very grief wasblunted for a time.

He felt as if he must go mad.

Then he prayed--prayed fervently. And at last, worn out with such fierceand contending emotions, he fell into a deep sleep, and did not wake tillthe sun was high in heaven.

He woke; and the first thing he saw was the fatal letter lying at hisfeet in a narrow stream of sunshine that came peering in.

He eyed it with horror. This, then, was then to haunt him by night andday.

He eyed it and eyed it. Then turned his face from it; but could not helpeying it again.

And at last certain words in this letter seemed to him to bear anaffinity to another piece of writing that had also caused him a greatwoe. Memory by its subtle links connected these two enemies of histogether. He eyed it still more keenly, and that impression becamestrengthened. He took the letter and looked at it close, and held it atarm's length and devoured it; and the effect of this keen examination wasvery remarkable. It seemed to restore the man to energy and to somethinglike hope. His eyes sparkled, and a triumphant "Ah!" burst from hisbosom.

He became once more a man of action. He rose, and bathed, and walkedrapidly to and fro upon the sands, working himself up to a daringenterprise. He took his saw into the jungle, and cut down a tree of akind common enough there. It was wonderfully soft, and almost as light ascork. The wood of this was literally useless for any other purpose thanthat to which Penfold destined it. He cut a great many blocks of thiswood, and drilled holes in them, and, having hundreds of yard of goodline, attached these quasi corks to the gunwale, so as to make alife-boat. This work took him several days, during which time an eventoccurred that encouraged him.

One morning he saw about a million birds very busy in the bay, and itproved to be a spermaceti whale come ashore.

He went out to her directly with all his tools, for he wanted oil for hisenterprise, and the seal oil was exhausted.

When he got near the whale in his boat, he observed a harpoon sticking inthe animal's back. He cut steps with his ax in the slippery carcass, andgot up to it as well as he could, extracted it by cutting and pulling,and threw it down into his boat, but not till he had taken the precautionto stick a great piece of blubber on the barbed point. He then sawed andhacked under difficulties, being buffeted and bothered with thousands ofbirds, so eager for slices that it was as much as he could do to avoidthe making of minced fowl; but, true to his gentle creed, he contrived toget three hundred-weight of blubber without downright killing any ofthese greedy competitors, though he buffeted some of them, and nearlyknocked out what little sense they had.

He came ashore with his blubber and harpoon, and when he came to examinethe latter, he found that the name of the owner was cut deeply in thesteel-- Josh. Fullalove, J. Fernandez. This inscription had a greateffect on Robert Penfold's mind. It seemed to bring the island of JuanFernandez, and humanity in general, nearer to him.

He boiled down the blubber, and put a barrel of oil on board hislife-boat. He had a ship's lantern to burn it in. He also pitched herbottom as far as he could get at it, and provisioned her for a longvoyage: taking care to lash the water-cask and beef-cask to thefore-thwart and foremast, in case of rough weather.

When he had done all this, it occurred to him suddenly that, should heever escape the winds and waves, and get to England, he would then haveto encounter difficulties and dangers of another class, and lose thebattle by his poverty.

"I play my stake now," said he. "I will throw no chance away."

He reflected, with great bitterness, on the misery that want of money hadalready brought on him; and he vowed to reach England rich, or go to thebottom of the Pacific.

This may seem a strange vow for a man to make on an unknown island; butRobert Penfold had a powerful understanding, sharpened by adversity, andhis judgment told him truly that he possessed wealth on this island, bothdirectly and indirectly. In the first place, knowledge is sometimeswealth, and the knowledge of this island was a thing he could sell to theAmerican merchants on the coast of Chili; and, with this view, he put onboard his boat specimens of the cassia and other woods, fruit, spices,pitch, guano, pink and red coral, pearl oysters, shells, cochineal,quartz, cotton, etc., etc.

Then he took his chisel, and struck all the larger pearls off the shellsthat lined Helen's cave. The walls and roof yielded nine enormous pearls,thirty large ones, and a great many of the usual size.

He made a pocket inside his waistcoat to hold the pearls safe.

Then he took his spade and dug into the Spanish ship for treasure. Butthis was terrible work. The sand returned upon the spade and trebled hislabor.

The condition to which time and long submersion had reduced this ship andcargo was truly remarkable. Nothing to be seen of the deck but a thinbrown streak that mingled with the sand in patches; of the timbersnothing but the uprights, and of those the larger half eaten anddissolved.

He dug five days, and found nothing solid.

On the sixth, being now at the bottom the ship, he struck his spadeagainst something hard and heavy.

On inspection it looked like ore, but of what metal he could not tell; itwas as black as a coal. He threw this on one side, and found nothingmore; but the next day he turned up a smaller fragment, which he tookhome and cleaned with lime juice. It came out bright in places likesilver.

This discovery threw light on the other. The piece of black ore, weighingabout seven pounds, was in reality silver coin, that a century ofsubmersion had reduced to the very appearance it wore before it ever wentinto the furnace.

He dug with fresh energy on this discovery, but found nothing more in theship that day.

Then it occurred to him to carry off a few hundred-weight of pink coral.

He got some fine specimens; and, while he was at that work, he fell inwith a piece that looked very solid at the root and unnaturally heavy. Ona nearer examination this proved to be a foreign substance incrusted withcoral. It had twined and twisted and curled over the thing in a mostunheard-of way. Robert took it home, and, by rubbing here and there withlemon juice, at last satisfied himself that this object was a silver boxabout the size of an octavo volume.

It had no keyhole, had evidently been soldered up for greater security,and Robert was left to conjecture how it had come there.

He connected it at once with the ship, and felt assured that some attempthad been made to save it. There it had lain by the side of the vessel allthese years, but, falling clear of the sand, had been embraced by thegrowing coral, and was now a curiosity, if not a treasure.

He would not break the coral, but put it on board his life-boat just asit was.

And now he dug no more. He thought he could sell the galleon as well asthe island, by sample, and he was impatient to be gone.

He reproached himself, a little unjustly, for allowing a woman toundertake the task of clearing him.

"To what annoyances, and perhaps affronts, have I exposed her!" said he."No, it is a man's business to defend, not to be defended."

To conclude: At high tide one fine afternoon he went on board with Ponto,and, hoisting his foresail only, crossed the bay, ranging along theisland till he reached the bluff. He got under this, and, by means of hiscompass and previous observations, set the boat's head exactly on theline the ducks used to take. Then he set his mainsail too, and stretchedboldly out across the great Pacific Ocean.

Time seems to wear out everything, even bad luck. It ran strong againstRobert Penfold for years. But, when it had struck its worst blow, andparted him and Helen Rolleston, it relaxed, and a tide of good luck setin, which, unfortunately, the broken-hearted man could not appreciate atthe time. However, so it was. He wanted oil; and a whale came ashore. Hewanted treasure, and the sea gave him a little back of all it hadswallowed; and now he wanted fine weather; and the ocean for days andnights was like peach-colored glass, dimpled here and there; and softwesterly airs fanned him along by night and day.

To be sure, he was on the true Pacific Ocean, at a period when it isreally free from storms. Still, even for that latitude, he had wonderfulweather for six days; and on the seventh he fell in with a schooner, theskipper and crew of which looked over the bulwarks at him with wonder andcordiality, and, casting out a rope astern, took him in tow.

The skipper had been eying him with amazement for some hours through histelescope; but he was a man that had seen a great many strange things,and it was also a point of honor with him never to allow that he wasastonished, or taken by surprise, or greatly moved.

"Wal, stranger," said he, "what craft is that?"

"The _Helen."_

"Where d'ye hail from? not that I am curious."

"From an unknown island."

"Do tell. What, another! Is it anyways nigh?"

"Not within seven hundred miles."

"Je--rusalem! Have you sailed all that in a cockle-shell?"

"Yes."

"Why, what are ye? the Wandering Jew afloat, or the Ancient Mariner? oronly a kinder nautilus?"

"I'm a landsman."

"A landsman! then so is Neptune. What is your name when you are ashore?"

"Robert Penfold. The Reverend Robert Penfold."

"The Reverend-- Je--rusalem!"

"May I ask what is your name, sir?"

"Wal, I reckon you may, stranger. I'm Joshua Fullalove from the States,at present located on the island of Juan Fernandez!"

He looked about and found the harpoon, and handed it up in a mightystraightforward, simple way.

Joshua stared at him incredulously at first, but afterward withamazement. He handled the harpoon, and inquired where Robert had fallenin with it. Robert told him.

"You're an honest man," said Fullalove," you air. Come aboard." He wasthen pleased to congratulate himself on his strange luck in havingdrifted across an honest man in the middle of the ocean. "I've heerd,"said he, "of an old chap as groped about all his life with a lantern, andcouldn't find one. Let's liquor."

He had some celestial mixture or other made, including rum, mint, andsnow from the Andes, and then began his interrogatories, againdisclaiming curiosity at set intervals.

"Whither bound, honest man?"

"The coast of Chili."

"What for?"

"Trade."

"D'ye buy or sell? Not that it is my business."

"I wish to sell."

"What's the merchandise?"

"Knowledge, and treasure."

Fullalove scratched his head. "Hain't ye got a few conundrums to swap forgold dust as well?"

Robert smiled faintly. The first time this six weeks.

"I have to sell the knowledge of an island with rich products; and I haveto sell the contents of a Spanish treasure-ship that I found buried inthe sand of that island."

The Yankee's eyes glistened.

"Wal," said he, "I do business in islands myself. I've leased this JuanFernandez. But one of them is enough at a time. I'm monarch of all Isurvey. But then what I survey is a mixallaneous bilin' of Irish andOtaheitans, that it's pizen to be monarch of. And now them darned Irishhas taken to converting the heathens to superstition and the worship ofimages, and breaks their heads if they won't. And the heathens are allsmiles and sweetness and immorality. No, islands is no bait to me."

"I never asked you," said Robert. "What I do ask you is to land me atValparaiso. There I'll find a purchaser, and will pay you handsomely foryour kindness."

"That is fair," said Fullalove, dryly. "What will you pay me?"

"I'll show you," said Robert. He took out of his, pocket the smallerconglomeration of Spanish coin, and put it into Fullalove's hand. "That,"said he, "is silver coin I dug out of the galleon."

Fullalove inspected it keenly, and trembled slightly. Robert then wentlightly over the taffrail, and slid down the low rope into his boat. Heheld up the black mass we have described.

"This is solid silver. I will give it you, and my best thanks, to land meat Valparaiso."

"Heave it aboard," said the Yankee.

Robert steadied himself and hove it on board. The Yankee caught it, heavyas it was, and subjected it to some chemical test directly.

"Wal," said he, "that is a bargain. I'll land ye at Valparaiso for this.Jack, lay her head S.S.E. and by E."

Having given this order, he leaned over the taffrail and asked for moresamples. Robert showed him the fruits, woods, and shells, and the pinkcoral, and bade him observe that the boat was ballasted with pearloysters. He threw him up one, and a bunch of pink coral. He then shinnedup the rope again, and the interrogatories recommenced. But this time hewas questioned closely as to who he was, and how he came on the island?and the questions were so shrewd and penetrating that his fortitude gaveway, and he cried out in anguish, "Man, man! do not torture me so. Oh, donot make me talk of my grief and my wrongs! they are more than I canbear."

Fullalove forbore directly, and offered him a cigar. He took it, and itsoothed him a little; it was long since he had smoked one. His agitationsubsided, and a quiet tear or two rolled down his haggard cheek.

The Yankee saw, and kept silence.

But, when the cigar was nearly smoked out, he said he was afraid Robertwould not find a customer for his island, and what a pity JoshuaFullalove was cool on islands just now.

"Oh!" said Robert, "I know there are enterprising Americans on the coastwho will give me money for what I have to sell."

Fullalove was silent a minute, then he got a piece of wood and a knife,and said with an air of resignation, "I reckon we'll have to deal."

Need we say that to deal had been his eager desire from the first?

He now began to whittle a peg, and awaited the attack.

"What will you give me, sir?"

"What, money down? And you got nothing to sell but chances. Why, there'san old cuss about that knows where the island is as well as you do."

"Then of course you will treat with him," said Robert, sadly.

"Darned if I do," said the Yankee. "You are in trouble, and he is not,nor never will be till he dies, and then he'll get it hot, I calc'late.He is a thief and stole my harpoon: you are an honest man and brought itback. I reckon I'll deal with you and not with that old cuss; not by ajugful! But it must be on a percentage. You tell me the bearings of thatthere island, and I'll work it and pay five per cent on the gross."

"Would you mind throwing that piece of wood into the sea, Mr. Fullalove?"said Robert.

"Caen't be done, nohow. I caen't deal without whittlin'."

"You mean you can't take an unfair advantage without it. Come, Mr.Fullalove, let us cut this short. I am, as you say, an honest and mostunfortunate man. Sir, I was falsely accused of a crime and banished mycountry. I can prove my innocence now if I can but get home with a greatdeal of money. So much for _me._ You are a member of the vainest and mostgenerous nation in the world."

"Wal, now that's kinder honey and vinegar mixed," said Fullalove; "prettygood for a Britisher, though."

"You are a man of that nation which in all the agonies and unparalleledexpenses of civil war, smarting, too, under anonymous taunts fromEngland, did yet send over a large sum to relieve the distresses ofcertain poor Englishmen who were indirect victims of that same calamity.The act, the time, the misery relieved, the taunts overlooked, prove yournation superior to all others in generosity. At least my reading, whichis very large, affords no parallel to it, either in ancient or modernhistory. Mr. Fullalove, please to recollect that you are a member of thatnation, and that I am very unhappy and helpless, and want money to undocruel wrongs, but have no heart to chaffer much. Take the island and thetreasures, and give me half the profits you make. Is not that fair?"

Fullalove wore a rueful countenance.

"Darn the critter," said he, "he'll take skin off my bones if I don'tmind. Fust Britisher ever I met as had the sense to see _that._ 'Twasrather handsome, warn't it? Wal, human nature is deep; every man youtackle in business larns ye something. What with picking ye out o' thesea, and you giving me back the harpoon the cuss stole, and your facelike a young calf, when you are the 'cutest fox out, and you giving thegreat United States their due, I'm no more fit to deal than mashedpotatoes. Now I cave; it is only for once. Next time don't you try topalaver me. Draw me a map of our island, Britisher, and mark where theSpaniard lies. I tell _you_ I know her name, and the year she was lostin; learned that at Lima one day. Kinder startled me, you did, when youshowed me the coin out of her. Wal, there's my hand on haelf profits,and, if I'm keen, I'm squar'."

Soon after this he led Robert to his cabin, and Robert drew a large mapfrom his models; and Fullalove, being himself an excellent draughtsman,and provided with proper instruments, aided him to finish it.

Next day they sighted Valparaiso, and hove to outside the port.

All the specimens of insular wealth were put on board the schooner andsecreted; for Fullalove's first move was to get a lease of the islandfrom the Chilian government, and it was no part of his plan to trumpetthe article he was going to buy.

After a moment's hesitation, he declined to take the seven pounds ofsilver. He gave as a reason that, having made a bargain which compelledhim to go to Valparaiso at once, he did not feel like charging hispartner a fancy price for towing his boat thither. At the same time hehinted that, after all this, the next customer would find him a verydifficult Yankee to get the better of.

With this understanding, he gave Robert a draft for eighty pounds onaccount of profits; and this enabled him to take a passage for Englandwith all his belongings.

He arrived at Southampton very soon after the events last related, andthence went to London, fully alive to the danger of his position.

He had a friend in his long beard, but he dared not rely on that alone.Like a mole, he worked at night.

CHAPTER LXVI.

HELEN asked Arthur Wardlaw why he was so surprised at the prayer-bookbeing brought back. Was it worth twenty pounds. to any one exceptherself?

Arthur looked keenly at her to see whether she intended more than met theear, and then said he was surprised at the rapid effect of hisadvertisement, that was all.

"Now you have got the book," said he, "I do hope you will erase thatcruel slander on one whom you mean to honor with your hand."

This proposal made Helen blush and feel very miserable. Of the obnoxiouslines some were written by Robert Penfold, and she had so little of hisdear handwriting. "I feel you are right, Arthur," said she; "but you mustgive me time. Then, they shall meet no eye but mine; and on ourwedding-day--of course--all memorials of one--" Tears completed thesentence.

Arthur Wardlaw, raging with jealousy at the absent Penfold, as heretoforePenfold had raged at him, heaved a deep sigh and hurried away, whileHelen was locking up the prayer-book in her desk. By this means heretained Helen's pity.

He went home directly, mounted to his bedroom, unlocked a safe, andplunged his hand into it. His hand encountered a book; he drew it outwith a shiver and gazed at it with terror and amazement.

It was the prayer-book he had picked up in the Square and locked up inthat safe. Yet that very prayer-book had been restored to Helen beforehis eyes, and was now locked up in her desk. He sat down with the book inhis hand, and a great dread came over him.

Hitherto Candor and Credulity only had been opposed to him, but nowCunning had entered the field against him; a master hand was co-operatingwith Helen.

Yet, strange to say, she seemed unconscious of that co-operation. HadRobert Penfold found his way home by some strange means? Was he watchingover her in secret?

He had the woman he loved watched night and day, but no Robert Penfoldwas detected.

He puzzled his brain night and day, and at last he conceived a plan ofdeceit which is common enough in the East, where lying is one of the finearts, but was new in this country, we believe, and we hope to Heaven weshall not be the means of importing it.

An old clerk of his father's, now superannuated and pensioned off, had ason upon the stage, in a very mean position. Once a year, however, and ofcourse in the dogdays, he had a kind of benefit at his suburban theater;that is to say, the manager allowed him to sell tickets, and take halfthe price of them. He persuaded Arthur to take some, and even to go tothe theater for an hour. The man played a little part, of a pompoussneak, with some approach to Nature. He seemed at home.

Arthur found this man out; visited him at his own place. He was verypoor, and mingled pomposity with obsequiousness, so that Arthur feltconvinced he was to be bought, body and soul, what there was of him.

He sounded him accordingly, and the result was that the man agreed toperform a part for him.

Arthur wrote it, and they rehearsed it together. As to the dialogue, thatwas so constructed that it could be varied considerably according to thecues, which could be foreseen to a certain extent; but not precisely,since they were to be given by Helen Rolleston, who was not in thesecret.

But while this plot was fermenting, other events happened, with rather acontrary tendency; and these will be more intelligible if we go back toNancy Rouse's cottage, where indeed we have kept Joseph Wylie in anuncomfortable position a very long time.

Mrs. James, from next door, was at last admitted into Nancy's kitchen,and her first word was, "I suppose you know what I'm come about, ma'am."

"Which it is to return me the sasspan you borrowed, no doubt," wasNancy's ingenuous reply.

"No, ma'am. But I'll send my girl in with it, as soon as she have cleanedit, you may depend."

"Thank ye, I shall be glad to see it again."

"You're not afeard I shall steal it, I hope?"

'"La, bless the woman! don't fly out at a body like that. I can't affordto give away my sasspan."

"Sasspans is not in my head."

"Nor in your hand neither."

"I'm come about my lodger; a most respectable gentleman, which he havemet with an accident. He did but go to put something away in thechimbley, which he is a curious gent, and has traveled a good deal, andlearned the foreign customs, when his hand was caught in the brick-work,somehows, and there he is hard and fast."

"Do you know anything about this?" said Nancy to the mite, severely.

"No," said the mite, with a countenance of polished granite.

"La bless me" said Nancy. with a sudden start "Why, is she talking aboutthe thief as you and I catched putting his hand through the wall into myroom, and made him fast again the policeman comes round?"

"Thief!" cried Mrs. James. "No more a thief than I am. Why, sure youwouldn't ever be so cruel! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Spite goes a far length.There, take an' kill me, do, and then you'll be easy in your mind. Ah,little my poor father thought as ever I should come down to lettinglodgings, and being maltreated this way! I am--"

"Who is a maltreating of ye? Why, you're dreaming. Have a drop o' gin?"

"With them as takes the police to my lodger? It would choke me."

"Well, have a drop, and we'll see about it."

"You're very kind, ma'am, I'm sure. Heaven knows I need it! Here'swishing you a good husband; and toward burying all unkindness."

"Which you means drounding of it."

"Ah, you're never at a loss for a word, ma'am, and always in goodspirits. But your troubles is to come. _I'm_ a widdy. You will let me seewhat is the matter with my lodger, ma'am?"

"Why not? We'll go and have a look at him."

Accordingly, the three women and the mite proceeded to the little room;Nancy turned the gas on, and then they inspected the imprisoned hand.Mrs. James screamed with dismay, and Nancy asked her dryly whether shewas to blame for seizing a hand which had committed a manifest trespass.

"You have got the rest of his body," said she, "but this here handbelongs to me."

"Lord, ma'am, what could he take out of your chimbley, without 'twas ahandful of soot? Do, pray, let me loose him."

"Not till I have said two words to him."

"But how can you? He isn't here to speak to--only a morsel of him."

"I can go into your house and speak to him."

Mrs. James demurred to that; but Nancy stood firm; Mrs. James yielded.Nancy whispered her myrmidons, and, in a few minutes, was standing by theprisoner, a reverend person in dark spectacles, and a gray beard, thatcreated commiseration, or would have done so, but that this stroke ofill-fortune had apparently fallen upon a great philosopher. He hadcontrived to get a seat under him, and was smoking a pipe with admirablesang-froid.

At sight of Nancy, however, he made a slight motion, as if he would notobject to follow his imprisoned hand through the party-wall. It was onlyfor a moment; the next, he smoked imperturbably.

"Well, sir," said Nancy, "I hopes you are comfortable?"

"Thank ye, miss; yes. I'm at a double sheet-anchor."

"Why do you call me miss?"

"I don't know. Because you are so young and pretty."

"That will do. I only wanted to hear the sound of your voice, Joe Wylie."And with the word she snatched his wig off with one hand, and his beardwith the other, and revealed his true features to his astonishedlandlady.

"There, mum," said she, "I wish you joy of your lodger." She tapped thechimney three times with the poker, and, telling Mr. Wylie she had a fewwords to say to him in private, retired for the present. Mrs. James satdown and mourned the wickedness of mankind, the loss of her lodger (whowould now go bodily next door instead of sending his hand), and thebetter days she had by iteration brought herself to believe she had seen.

Wylie soon entered Nancy's house, and her first question was, "The 2,000pounds, how did you get them?"

"No matter how I got them," said Wylie, sulkily. "What have you done withthem?"

"Put them away."

"That is all right. I'm blest if I didn't think they were gone forever."

"I wish they had never come. Ill-gotten money is a curse." Then she taxedhim with scuttling the _Proserpine,_ and asked him whether that money hadnot been the bribe. But Joe was obdurate. "I never split on a friend,"said he. "And you have nobody to blame but yourself, you wouldn't splicewithout 2,000 pounds. I loved you, and I got it how I could. D'ye think apoor fellow like me can make 2,000 pounds in a voyage by hauling inropes, and tying true-lovers' knots in the foretop?"

Nancy had her answer ready, but this remembrance pricked her ownconscience and paved the way to a reconciliation. Nancy had no high-flownnotions. She loved money, but it must be got without palpable dishonesty;_per contra,_ she was not going to denounce her sweetheart, but thenagain she would not marry him so long as he differed with her about themeaning of the eighth commandment.

This led to many arguments, some of them warm, some affectionate; and sowe leave Mr. Wylie under the slow but salutary influence of love andunpretending probity. He continued to lodge next door. Nancy would onlyreceive him as a visitor.

CHAPTER LXVII.

HELEN had complained to Arthur, of all people, that she was watched andfollowed; she even asked him whether that was not the act of some enemy.Arthur smiled, and said: "Take my word for it, it is only some foolishadmirer of your beauty; he wants to know your habits, in hopes of fallingin with you; you had better let me go out with you for the next month orso; that sort of thing will soon die away."

As a necessary consequence of this injudicious revelation, Helen waswatched with greater skill and subtlety, and upon a plan well calculatedto disarm suspicion; a spy watched the door, and by a signalunintelligible to any but his confederate, whom Helen could not possiblysee, set the latter on her track. They kept this game up unobserved forseveral days, but learned nothing, for Helen was at a standstill. At lastthey got caught, and by a truly feminine stroke of observation. A showilydressed man peeped into a shop where Helen was buying gloves.

With one glance of her woman's eye she recognized a large breast-pin inthe worst possible taste; thence her eye went up and recognized thefeatures of her seedy follower, though he was now dressed up to the nine.She withdrew her eye directly, completed her purchase, and went home,brooding defense and vengeance.

That evening she dined with a lady who had a large acquaintance withlawyers, and it so happened that Mr. Tollemache and Mr. Hennessy wereboth of the party. Now, when these gentlemen saw Helen in full costume, aqueen in form as well as face, coroneted with her island pearls,environed with a halo of romance, and courted by women as well as men,they looked up to her with astonishment, and made up to her in a verydifferent style from that in which they had received her visit.Tollemache she received coldly; he had defended Robert Penfold feebly,and she hated him for it. Hennessy she received graciously, and,remembering Robert's precept to be supple as a woman, bewitched him. Hewas good-natured, able and vain. By eleven o'clock she had enlisted himin her service. When she had conquered him, she said, slyly, "But I oughtnot to speak of these things to you except through a solicitor."

"That is the general rule," said the learned counsel; "but in this caseno dark body must come between me and the sun."

In short he entered into Penfold's case with such well-feigned warmth, toplease the beauteous girl, that at last she took him by the horns andconsulted.

"I am followed," said she.

"I have no doubt you are; and on a large scale; if there is room foranother, I should be glad to join the train."

"Ha! ha! I'll save you the trouble. I'll meet you half way. But, to beserious, I am watched, spied and followed by some enemy to that goodfriend whose sacred cause we have undertaken. Forgive me for saying'we.'"

"I am too proud of the companionship to let you off. 'We' is the word."

"Then advise me what to do. I want to retaliate. I want to discover whois watching me, and why. Can you advise me? Will you?"

The counsel reflected a moment, and Helen, who watched him, remarked thepower that suddenly came into his countenance and brow.

"You must watch the spies. I have influence in Scotland Yard, and willget it done for you. If you went there yourself they would cross-examineyou and decline to interfere. I'll go myself for you and put it in acertain light. An able detective will call on you. Give him ten guineas,and let him into your views in confidence; then he will work the publicmachinery for you."

"Oh, Mr. Hennessy, how can I thank you?"

"By succeeding. I hate to fail. And now your cause is mine."

Next day a man with a hooked nose, a keen black eye, and a solitaryfoible (Mosaic), called on Helen Rolleston, and told her he was to takeher instructions. She told him she was watched, and thought it was doneto baffle a mission she had undertaken; but, having got so far, sheblushed and hesitated.

"The more you tell me, miss, the more use I can be," said Mr. Burt.

Thus encouraged, and also remembering Mr. Hennessy's advice, she gave Mr.Burt, as coldly as she could, an outline of Robert Penfold's case, and ofthe exertions she had made, and the small result.

Burt listened keenly, and took a note or two; and, when she had done, hetold her something in return.

"Miss Rolleston," said he, "I am the officer that arrested RobertPenfold. It cost me a grinder that he knocked out."

"Why not, miss? What, do you think I hold spite against a poor fellow fordefending himself? Besides, Mr. Penfold wrote me a very proper note.Certainly for a parson the gent is a very quick hitter; but he wrote verysquare; said he hoped I would allow for the surprise and the agitation ofan innocent man; sent me two guineas, too, and said he would make ittwenty but he was poor as well as unfortunate; that letter has stuck inmy gizzard ever since; can't see the color of felony in it. Your felon isnever in a fault; and, if he wears a good coat, he isn't given to showfight."

"It was very improper of him to strike you," said Helen, "and very nobleof you to forgive it. Make him still more ashamed of it; lay him under adeep obligation."

"If he is innocent, I'll try and prove it," said the detective. He thenasked her if she had taken notes. She said she had a diary. He begged tosee it. She felt inclined to withhold it, because of the comments; but,remembering that this was womanish, and that Robert's orders to her wereto be manly on such occasions, she produced her diary. Mr. Burt read itvery carefully, and told her it was a very promising case. "You have donea great deal more than you thought," he said. _"You have netted thefish."_

CHAPTER LXVIII.

"I NETTED the fish! what fish?"

"The man who forged the promissory note."

"Oh, Mr. Burt!"

"The same man that forged the newspaper extracts to deceive you forgedthe promissory note years ago, and the man who is setting spies on you isthe man who forged those extracts; so we are sure to nail him. He is inthe net; and very much to your credit. Leave the rest to me. I'll tellyou more about it to-morrow. You must order your carriage at one o'clocktomorrow and drive down to Scotland Yard; go into the Yard, and you willsee me; follow me without a word. When you go back, the other spies willbe so frightened they will go off to their employer, and so we shall nailhim."

Helen complied with these instructions strictly, and then returned home,leaving Mr. Burt to work. She had been home about half an hour, when theservant brought her up a message saying that a man wanted to speak toher. "Admit him," said Helen.

"He is dressed very poor, miss."

"Never mind; send him to me."

She was afraid to reject anybody now, lest she might turn her back oninformation.

A man presented himself in well-worn clothes, with a wash-leather faceand close-shaven chin; a little of his forehead was also shaven.

"Madam, my name is Hand." Helen started. "I have already had the honor ofwriting to you."

"Yes, sir," said Helen, eying him with fear and aversion.

"Madam, I am come"--(he hesitated)--"I am an unfortunate man. Weigheddown by remorse for a thoughtless act that has ruined an innocent man,and nearly cost my worthy employer his life, I come to expiate as far asin me lies. But let me be brief and hurry over the tale of shame. I was aclerk at Wardlaw's office. A bill-broker called Adams was talking to meand my fellow-clerks, and boasting that nobody could take him in with afeigned signature. Bets were laid; our vanity was irritated by hispretension. It was my fortune to overhear my young master and his friendRobert Penfold speak about a loan of two thousand pounds. In an evil hourI listened to the tempter and wrote a forged note for that amount. I tookit to Mr. Penfold; he presented it to Adams, and it was cashed. Iintended, of course, to call next day, and tell Mr. Penfold, and take himto Adams, and restore the money and get back the note. It was not due forthree months. Alas! that very day it fell under suspicion. Mr. Penfoldwas arrested. My young master was struck down with illness at hisfriend's guilt, though he never could be quite got to believe it; andI--miserable coward!--dared not tell the truth. Ever since that day Ihave been a miserable man. The other day I came into money, and leftWardlaw's service. But I carry my remorse with me. Madam, I am come totell the truth. I dare not tell it to Mr. Wardlaw; I think he would killme. But I will tell it to you, and you can tell it to him; ay, tell it toall the world. Let my shame be as public as his whom I have injured sodeeply, but, Heaven knows, unintentionally. I--I--I--"

Mr. Hand sank all in a heap where he sat, and could say no more.

Helen's flesh crawled at this confession, and at the sight of thisreptile who owned that he had destroyed Robert Penfold in fear andcowardice. For a long time her wrath so overpowered all sense of pitythat she sat trembling; and, if eyes could kill, Mr. Hand would not haveoutlived his confession.

At last she contrived to speak. She turned her head away not to see thewretch and said, sternly:

"Are you prepared to make this statement on paper, if called on?"

Mr. Hand hesitated, but said, "Yes."

"Then write down that Robert Penfold was innocent, and you are ready toprove it whenever you may be called upon."

"Write that down?" said Hand.

"Unless your penitence is feigned, you will."

"Sooner than that should be added to my crime I will avow all." He wrotethe few lines she required.

"Now your address, that I may know where to find you at a moment'snotice." He wrote, "J. Hand, 11 Warwick Street, Pimlico."

Helen then dismissed him, and wept bitterly. In that condition she wasfound by Arthur Wardlaw, who comforted her, and, on hearing her report ofHand's confession, burst out into triumph, and reminded her he had alwayssaid Robert Penfold was innocent. "My father," said he, "must yield tothis evidence, and we will lay it before the Secretary of State and gethis pardon."

"His pardon! when he is innocent!"

"Oh, that is the form--the only form. The rest must be done by the warmreception of his friends. I, for one, who all these years have maintainedhis innocence, will be the first to welcome him to my house an honoredguest. What am I saying? Can I? dare I? ought I? when my wife-- Ah! I ammore to be pitied than my poor friend is; my friend, my rival. Well, Ileave it to you whether he can come into your husband's house."

"Never."

"But, at least, I can send the _Springbok_ out, and bring him home; andthat I will do without one day's delay."

"Oh, Arthur!" cried Helen, "you set me an example of unselfishness."

"I do what I can," said Arthur. "I am no saint. I hope for a reward."

Helen sighed. "What shall I do?"

"Have pity on _me!_ your faithful lover, and to whom your faith wasplighted before ever you saw or knew my unhappy friend. What can I do orsuffer more than I have done and suffered for you? My sweet Helen, havepity on me, and be my wife."

"I will, some day."

"Bless you. Bless you. One effort more. What day?"

"I can't. I can't. My heart is dead."

"This day fortnight. Let me speak to your father. Let him name the day."

As she made no reply, he kissed her hand devotedly, and did speak to herfather. Sir Edward, meaning all for the best, said, "This day fortnight."

CHAPTER LXIX.

THE next morning came the first wedding presents from the jubilantbridegroom, who was determined to advance step by step, and give nobreathing time. When Helen saw them laid out by her maid, she trembled atthe consequences of not giving a plump negative to so brisk a wooer.

The second post brought two letters; one of them from Mrs. Undercliff.The other contained no words, but only a pearl of uncommon size, andpear-shaped. Helen received this at first as another wedding present, andan attempt on Arthur's part to give her a pearl as large as those she hadgathered on her dear island. But, looking narrowly at the address, shesaw it was not written by Arthur; and, presently, she was struck by thelikeness of this pearl in shape to some of her own. She got out herpearls, laid them side by side, and began to be moved exceedingly. Shehad one of her instincts, and it set every fiber quivering withexcitement. It was some time before she could take her eyes off thepearls, and it was with a trembling hand she opened Mrs. Undercliff'sletter. That missive was not calculated to calm her. It ran thus:

"MY DEAR YOUNG LADY-- A person called here last night and supplied theclew. If you have the courage to know the truth, you have only to comehere, and to bring your diary, and all the letters you have received fromany person or persons since you landed in England. I am yours obediently,

JANE UNDERCLIFF."

The courage to know the truth!

This mysterious sentence affected Helen considerably. But her faith inRobert was too great to be shaken. She would not wait for the canonicalhour at which young ladies go out, but put on her bonnet directly afterbreakfast. Early as she was, a visitor came before she could start--Mr.Burt, the detective. She received him in the library.

Mr. Burt looked at her dress and her little bag, and said, "I'm very gladI made bold to call so early."

"You have got information of importance to communicate to me?"

"I think so, miss;" and he took out his note-book. "The person you arewatched by is Mr. Arthur Wardlaw." The girl stared at him. "Both spiesreport to him twice a day at his house in Russell Square."

"Be careful, Mr. Burt; this is a serious thing to say, and may haveserious consequences."

"Well, miss, you told me you wanted to know the truth."

"Of course I want to know the truth."

"Then the truth is that you are watched by order of Mr. Wardlaw."

Burt continued his report.

"A shabby-like man called on you yesterday."

"Yes; it was Mr. Hand, Mr. Wardlaw's clerk. And, oh, Mr. Burt, thatwretched creature came and confessed the truth. It was he who forged thenote, out of sport, and for a bet, and then was too cowardly to own it."She then detailed Hand's confession.

"His penitence comes too late," said she, with a deep sigh.

"It hasn't come yet," said Burt, dryly. "Of course my lambs followed theman. He went first to his employer, and then he went home. His name isnot Hand. He is not a clerk at all, but a little actor at the CorinthianSaloon. Hand is in America; went three months ago. I ascertained thatfrom another quarter."

"Oh, goodness!" cried Helen, "what a wretched world! I can't see my way ayard for stories."

"How should you, miss? It is clear enough, for all that. Mr. Wardlawhired this actor to pass for Hand, and tell you a lie that he thoughtwould please you."

Helen put her hand to her brow, and thought; but her candid soul gotsadly in the way of her brain. "Mr. Burt," said she, "will you go with meto Mr. Undercliff, the expert?"

"With pleasure, ma'am; but let me finish my report. Last night there wassomething new. Your house was watched by six persons. Two were Wardlaw's,three were Burt's; but the odd man was there on his own hook; and my mencould not make him out at all; but they think one of Wardlaw's men knewhim; for he went off to Russell Square like the wind and brought Mr.Wardlaw here in disguise. Now, miss, that is all; and shall I call a cab,and we'll hear Undercliff's tale?"

The cab was called, and they went to Undercliff. On the way Helenbrooded; but the detective eyed every man and everything on the road withthe utmost keenness.

Edward Undercliff was at work at lithographing. He received Helencordially, nodded to Burt, and said she could not have a betterassistant.

He then laid his fac-simile of the forged note on the table, with JohnWardlaw's genuine writing and Penfold's indorsement. "Look at that, Mr.Burt."

Burt inspected the papers keenly.

"You know, Burt, I swore at Robert Penfold's trial that he never wrotethat forged note."

"I remember," said Burt.

"The other day this lady instructed me to discover, if I could, who didwrite the forged note. But, unfortunately, the materials she gave me werenot sufficient. But, last night, a young man dropped from the clouds,that I made sure was an agent of yours, Miss Rolleston. Under thatimpression I was rather unguarded, and I let him know how far we had got,and could get no further. 'I think I can help you,' says this young man,and puts a letter on the table. Well, Mr. Burt, a glance at that letterwas enough for me. It was written by the man who forged the note."

"A letter!" said Helen.

"Yes. I'll put the letter by the side of the forged note; and, if youhave any eye for writing at all, you'll see at once that one hand wrotethe forged note and this letter. I am also prepared to swear that theletters signed Hand are forgeries by the same person." He then coolly putupon the table the letter from Arthur Wardlaw that Helen had received onboard the _Proserpine,_ and was proceeding to point out the many pointsof resemblance between the letter and the document, when he wasinterrupted by a scream from Helen.

"Ah!" she cried, "he is here. Only one man in the world could havebrought that letter. I left it on the island. Robert is here. He gave youthat letter."

"You are right," said the expert, "and what a fool I must be! I have noeye except for handwriting. He had a beard; and such a beard!"

"It is Robert!" cried Helen, in raptures. "He is come just in time."

"In time to be arrested," said Burt. "Why, his time is not out. He'll getinto trouble again."

"Oh, Heaven forbid!" cried Helen, and turned so faint she had to be laidback on a chair, and salts applied to her nostrils.

She soon came to, and cried and trembled, but prepared to defend herRobert with all a woman's wit. Burt and Undercliff were conversing in alow voice, and Burt was saying he felt sure Wardlaw's spies had detectedRobert Penfold, and that Robert would be arrested and put into prison asa runaway convict. "Go to Scotland Yard this minute, Mr. Burt," saidHelen, eagerly.

"What for?"

"Why, you must take the commission to arrest him. You are our friend."

Burt slapped his thigh with delight.

"That is first-rate, miss," said he. "I'll take the real felon, first,you may depend. Now, Mr. Undercliff, write your report, and hand it toMiss Helen with fac-similes. It will do no harm if you make a declarationto the same effect before a magistrate. You, Miss Rolleston, keepyourself disengaged, and please don't go out. You will very likely hearfrom me again to-day."

He drove off, and Helen, though still greatly agitated by Robert's dangerand the sense of his presence, now sat down, trembling a little, andcompared Arthur's letter with the forged document. The effect of thiscomparison was irresistible. The expert, however, asked her for someletter of Arthur's that had never passed through Robert Penfold's hands.She gave him the short note in which he used the very words, RobertPenfold. He said he would make that note the basis of his report.

While he was writing it, Mrs. Undercliff came in, and Helen told her all.She said, "I came to the same conclusion long ago; but when you said hewas to be your husband--"

"Ah," said Helen, "we women are poor creatures; we can always find somereason for running away from the truth. Now explain about theprayer-book."

"Well, miss, I felt sure he would steal it, so I made Ned produce afac-simile. And he did steal it. What you got back was your mother'sprayer-book. Of course I took care of that."

"Oh, Mrs. Undercliff," cried Helen, "do let me kiss you."

Then they had a nice little cry together, and, by the time they had done,the report was ready in duplicate.

"I'll declare this before a magistrate," said the expert, "and then I'llsend it you.

At four o'clock of this eventful day, Helen got a message from Burt tosay that he had orders to arrest Robert Penfold, and that she must wear amask, and ask Mr. Wardlaw to meet her at old Mr. Penfold's at nineo'clock. But she herself must be there at half-past eight, without fail,and bring Undercliff's declaration and report with her, and theprayer-book, etc.

Accordingly Helen went down to old Mr. Penfold's at half-past eight andwas received by Nancy Rouse, and ushered into Mr. Penfold's room; that isto say, Nancy held the door open, and, on her entering the room, shut itsharply and ran down stairs.

Helen entered the room; a man rose directly, and came to her; but it wasnot Michael Penfold--it was Robert. A faint scream, a heavenly sigh, andher head was on his shoulder, and her arm round his neck, and both theirhearts panting as they gazed, and then clung to each other, and thengazed again with love unutterable. After a while they got sufficientcomposure to sit down hand in hand and compare notes. And Helen showedhim their weapons of defense, the prayer-book, the expert's report, etc.

A discreet tap was heard at the door. It was Nancy Rouse. On beinginvited to enter, she came in and said, "Oh, Miss Helen, I've got apenitent outside, which he done it for love of me, and now he'll make aclean breast, and the fault was partly mine. Come in, Joe, and speak foryourself."

On this, Joe Wylie came in, hanging his head, piteously.

"She is right, sir," said he; "I'm come to ask your pardon and thelady's. Not as I ever meant you any harm; but to destroy the ship, it wasa bad act, and I've never throve since. Nance, she have got the money.I'll give it back to the underwriters; and, if you and the lady willforgive a poor fellow that was tempted with love and money, why, I'llstand to the truth for you, though it's a bitter pill."

"I forgive you," said Robert; "and I accept your offer to serve me."

"And so do I," said Helen. "Indeed, it is not us you have wronged. Butoh, I _am_ glad, for Nancy's sake, that you repent."

"Miss, I'll go through fire and water for you," said Wylie, lifting uphis head.

Here old Michael came in to say that Arthur Wardlaw was at the door, witha policeman.

"Show him in," said Robert.

"Oh, no, Robert!" said Helen. "He fills me with horror."

"Show him in," said Robert, gently. "Sit down, all of you."

Now Burt had not told Arthur who was in the house, so he came, ratheruneasy in his mind, but still expecting only to see Helen.

Robert Penfold told Helen to face the door, and the rest to sit back; andthis arrangement had not been effected one second, when Arthur came in,with a lover's look, and, taking two steps into the room, saw the threemen waiting to receive him. At sight of Penfold, he started and turnedpale as ashes; but, recovering himself, said: "My dearest Helen, this isindeed an unexpected pleasure. You will reconcile me to one whose worthand innocence I never doubted, and tell him I have had some little handin clearing him."

His effrontery was received in dead silence. This struck cold to hisbones, and, being naturally weak, he got violent. He said, "Allow me tosend a message to my servant."

He then tore a leaf out of his memorandum-book, wrote on it: "RobertPenfold is here; arrest him directly, and take him away"; and, inclosingthis in an envelope, sent it out to Burt by Nancy.

"Then the person you sent to me to tell me that falsehood was not Mr.Hand?"

"I sent nobody."

"Oh, for shame! for shame! Why have you set spies? Why did you make awaywith my prayer-book; or what you thought was my prayer-book? Here _is_ myprayer-book, that proves you had the _Proserpine_ destroyed; and I shouldhave lost my life but for another, whom you had done your best todestroy. Look Robert Penfold in the face, if you can."

"Oh, that is it--is it?" said Arthur, wildly. "You break faith with mefor _him?_ You insult me for _him?_ I must bear anything from you, for Ilove you; but, at least, I will sweep _him_ out of the path."

He ran to the door, opened it, and there was Burt, listening.

"Are you an officer?"

"Yes."

"Then arrest that man this moment: he is Robert Penfold, a convictreturned before his time."

Burt came into the room, locked the door and put the key in his pocket.

"Well, sir," said he to Robert Penfold, "I know you are a quick hitter.Don't let us have a row over it this time. If you have got anything tosay, say it quiet and comfortable."

"I will go with you on one condition," said Robert. "You must take thefelon as well as the martyr. This is the felon," and he laid his hand onArthur's shoulder, who cowered under the touch at first, but soon beganto act violent indignation.

"Take the ruffian away at once," he cried.

"What, before I hear what he has got to say?"

"Would you listen to him against a merchant of the city of London, a manof unblemished reputation?"

"Well, sir, you see we have got a hint that you were concerned inscuttling a ship; and that is a felony. So I think I'll just hear what hehas got to say. You need not _fear_ any man's tongue if you areinnocent."

"Sit down, if you please, and examine these documents," said RobertPenfold. "As to the scuttling of the ship, here is the deposition of twoseamen, taken on their death-bed, and witnessed by Miss Rolleston andmyself."

"And that book he tried to steal," said Helen.

Robert continued: "And here is Undercliff's fac-simile of the forgednote. Here are specimens of Arthur Wardlaw's handwriting, and here isUndercliff's report."

The detective ran his eye hastily over the report, which we slightlycondense.

On comparing the forged note with genuine specimens of John Wardlaw'shandwriting, no less than twelve deviations from his habits of writingstrike the eye; and every one of these twelve deviations is a deviationinto a habit of Arthur Wardlaw, which is an amount of demonstrationrarely attained in cases of forgery.

1. THE CAPITAL L.--Compare in London (forged note) with the same letterin London in Wardlaw's letter.

2. THE CAPITAL D.--Compare this letter in "Date" with the same letter in"Dearest."

3. THE CAPITAL T.--Compare it in "Two" and "Tollemache."

4. The word "To"; see "To pay," in forged note and third line of letter.

5. Small "o" formed with a loop in the up-stroke.

6. The manner of finishing the letter "v."

7. Ditto the letter "w."

8. The imperfect formation of the small "a." This and the looped" o" runthrough the forged note and Arthur Wardlaw 's letter, and are habitsentirely foreign to the style of John Wardlaw.

9. See the "th" in connection.

10. Ditto the "of" in connection.

11. The incautious use of the Greek e. John Wardlaw never uses this e.Arthur Wardlaw never uses any other, apparently. The writer of the forgednote began right, but, at the word Robert Penfold, glided insensibly intohis Greek e, and maintained it to the end of the forgery. This looks asif he was in the habit of writing those two words.

12. Compare the words "Robert Penfold" in the forged document with thesame words in the letter. The similarity is so striking that on these twowords alone the writer could be identified beyond a doubt.

13. Great pains were taken with the signature, and it is like JohnWardlaw's writing on the surface; but go below the surface, and it is allArthur Wardlaw.

The looped o, the small r, the 1 drooping below the d, the open a, areall Arthur Wardlaw's. The open loop of the final w is a still bolderdeviation into A. W. 's own hand. The final flourish is a curiousmistake. It is executed with skill and freedom; but the writer has madethe lower line the thick one. Yet John Wardlaw never does this.

How was the deviation caused? Examine the final flourish in ArthurWardlaw's signature. It contains one stroke only, but then that stroke isa thick one. He thought he had only to prolong his own stroke and bringit round. He did this extremely well, but missed the deepercharacteristic--the thick upper stroke. This is proof of a highcharacter: and altogether I am prepared to testify upon oath that thewriter of the letter to Miss Rolleston, who signs himself Arthur Wardlaw,is the person who forged the promissory note.

"Don't let _him_ go," cried old Penfold. "A villain! I have got thenumber of the notes from Benson. I can prove he bribed this poor man todestroy the ship. Don't let him go. He has ruined my poor boy."

At this Arthur Wardlaw began to shriek for mercy. "Oh, Mr. Penfold," saidhe, "you are a father and hate me. But think of my father. I'll sayanything, do anything. I'll clear Robert Penfold at my own expense. Ihave lost _her._ She loathes me now. Have mercy on me, and let me leavethe country!"

He cringed and crawled so that he disarmed anger, and substitutedcontempt.

"Ay," said Burt. "He don't hit like you, Mr. Penfold; this is a chap thatought to have been in Newgate long ago. But take my advice; make himclear you on paper, and then let him go. I'll go downstairs awhile. Imustn't take part in compounding a felony."

"Oh, yes, Robert," said Helen "for his father's sake."

"Very well," said Robert. "Now, then, reptile, take the pen, and write inyour own hand, if you can."

He took the pen, and wrote to dictation--

"I, Arthur Wardlaw, confess that I forged the promissory note for 2,000pounds, and sent it to Robert Penfold, and that 1,400 pounds of it was tobe for my own use, and to pay my Oxford debts. And I confess that Ibribed Wylie to scuttle the ship _Proserpine_ in order to cheat theunderwriters."

Penfold then turned to Wylie, and asked him the true motive of thisfraud.

"Why, the gold was aboard the _Shannon,_" said Wylie; "I playedhanky-panky with the metals in White's store."

"Put that down," said Penfold. "Now go on."

"Make a clean breast," said Wylie. "I have. Say as how you cooked the_Proserpine's_ log, and forged Hiram Hudson's writing."

"And the newspaper extracts you sent me," said Helen, "and the lettersfrom Mr. Hand."

Arthur groaned. "Must I tell all that?" said he.

"Every word, or be indicted," said Robert Penfold, sternly.

He wrote it all down, and then sat staring stupidly. And the next thingwas, he gave a loud shriek, and fell on the floor in a fit. Theysprinkled water over him, and Burt conveyed him home in a cab, advisinghim to leave the country, but at the same time promising him not toexasperate those he had wronged so deeply, but rather to moderate them,if required. Then he gave Burt fifty guineas.

Robert Penfold, at Helen's request, went with her to Mr. Hennessy, andwith the proofs of Arthur's guilt and Robert's innocence; and heundertook that the matter should go in proper form before the Secretaryof State. But, somehow, it transpired that the _Proserpine_ had beenscuttled, and several of the underwriters wrote to the Wardlaws tothreaten proceedings. Wardlaw senior returned but one answer to thesegentlemen: "Bring your proofs to me at my place of business next Mondayat twelve, and let me judge the case, before you go elsewhere."

"That is high and mighty," said one or two; but they conferred, andagreed to these terms, so high stood the old merchant's name.

They came; they were received with stiff courtesy. The deposition ofCooper and Welch was produced, and Wylie, kept up to the mark by Nancy,told the truth and laid his two thousand pounds intact down on the table."Now that is off my stomach," said he, "and I'm a man again."

"Ay, and I'll marry you next week," said Nancy.

"Well, gentlemen," said old Wardlaw, "my course seems very clear. I willundo the whole transaction, and return you your money less the premiums,but plus five per cent. interest." And this he did on the spot, for thefirm was richer than ever.

When they were gone, Robert Penfold came in and said, "I hear, sir, youdevote this day to repairing the wrongs done by your firm: what can youdo for me?" He laid a copy of Arthur's confession before him. The old manwinced a moment where he sat, and the iron passed through his soul. Itwas a long time before he could speak. At last he said, "This wrong isirreparable, I fear."

Robert said nothing. Sore as his own heart was, he was not the one tostrike a grand old man, struggling so bravely against dishonor.

Wardlaw senior touched his handbell.

"Request Mr. Penfold to step this way."

Michael Penfold came.

"Gentlemen," said the old merchant, "the house of Wardlaw exists no more.It was built on honesty, and cannot survive a fraud. Wardlaw and Son werepartners at will. I had decided to dissolve that partnership, wind up theaccounts and put up the shutters. But now, if you like, I will value theeffects, and hand the business over to Penfold and Son on easy terms.Robert Penfold has been accused of forging John Wardlaw's name; to provethis was a calumny, I put Penfold over my door instead of Wardlaw. Thecity of London will understand that, gentlemen, believe me."

"Mr. Wardlaw," said Robert, "you are a just, a noble--" He could say nomore.

"Ah, sir," said Michael, "if the young gentleman had only been like you!"

"Mention his name no more to me. His crime and his punishment have killed me."

"Oh," said Robert, hastily, "he shall not be punished for your sake."

"Not be punished? It is not in your hands to decide. God has punishedhim. He is insane."

"Good Heavens!"

"Quite mad;--quite mad. Gentlemen, I can no longer support thisinterview. Send me your solicitor's address; the deeds shall be prepared.I wish the new firm success. Probity is the road to it. Good-day."

He wound up the affairs, had his name and Arthur's painted out at his ownexpense, and directed the painters to paint the Penfolds' in at theirs;went home to Elmtrees, and died in three days. He died lamented andhonored, and Robert Penfold was much affected. He got it into his headthat he had killed him with Arthur's confession, putting it before him sosuddenly. "I have forgotten who said 'Vengeance is mine,' " said RobertPenfold.

The merchant priest left the office to be conducted by his father; heused the credit of the new firm to purchase a living in the Vale of Kent;and thither he retired, grateful to Providence, but not easy in hisconscience. He now accused himself of having often distrusted God, andseen his fellow creatures in too dark a light. He turned toward religionand the care of souls.

Past suffering enlightens a man, and makes him tender; and people soonbegan to walk and drive considerable distances to hear the new vicar. Hehad a lake with a peninsula, the shape of which he altered, at a greatexpense, as soon as he came there. He wrote to Helen every day, and sheto him. Neither could do anything _con amore_ till the post came in.

One afternoon as he was preaching with great unction, he saw a longpuritanical face looking up at him with a droll expression of amazementand half-irony. The stranger called on him and began at once. "Wal,parson, you are a buster, you air. You ginn it us hot--_you_ did. I'mdarned if I ain't kinder ashamed to talk of this world's goods to a saintupon airth like you. But I never knowed a parson yet as couldn't collarthe dollars."

After this preamble he announced that he had got a lease of the islandfrom Chili, dug a lot of silver plate out of the galleon, sold ten tonsof choice coral, and a ship-load of cassia and cocoanuts. He had thendisposed of his lease to a Californian company for a large sum. And hispartner's share of net profits came to 17,247 pounds 13s. 3 1/2 d. whichsum he had paid to Michael, for Robert, Penfold in drafts on Baring, atthirty days after sight.

Robert shook his hand, and thanked him sincerely for his ability andprobity. He stayed that night at the Vicarage, and by that means fell inwith another acquaintance. General Rolleston and his daughter drove downto see the parsonage. Helen wanted to surprise Robert; and, as oftenhappens, she surprised herself. She made him show her everything; and sohe took her on to his peninsula. Lo! the edges of it had been cut andaltered, so that it presented a miniature copy of Godsend Island.

As soon as she saw this, Helen turned round with a sudden cry of love,"Oh, Robert!" and the lovers were in each other's arms. "What could anyother man ever be to me?"

"And what could any other woman ever be to me?"

They knew that before. But this miniature island made them speak out andsay it. The wedding-day was fixed before she left.